


The Letter: The Death of Charlene Walters

by Elyos



Category: The Letter (Yangyang Mobile)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyos/pseuds/Elyos
Summary: Sequel toThe Letter: Kill Me, Darling.Hours after her first sighting of the ghost of Ermengarde Mansion, Charlene Walters obsesses over the ghost in her sketchbook. Then the ghost pays her a visit...





	The Letter: The Death of Charlene Walters

Saturday, October 22nd, 12:08am...

In her bedroom, Charlene Walters' backpack lay unzipped and emptied of its art contents, inside the open sliding door of her closet. A soft humming drifted through her room from her bed, where she lay belly down on the soft mattress, her sketchbook open as she sketched more and more pictures of the female ghost she met only hours before, in the Briar Realty Corporation's open house tour of the Ermengarde Mansion. To say Charlene fell in love with the ghost would have been the understatement of the century.

She was obsessed with it.

Merrily fluttering her feet as she smoothed the curve of the female ghost's bosom—the part of the ghost Charlene accentuated palpably—Charlene's cheeks roasted at a soft, pink temperature. She gave the ghost in her sketch nine inch claws and an obscenely long tongue, making her appear somehow even _more_ grotesque than she did when she revealed herself to Charlene in the Ermengarde kitchen. Something wild inside Charlene's mind created untamed imaginings of explicit scenes involving herself and the Ermengarde ghost. Lewd scenes. Scenes in which the ghost put her extremely long, saliva-dripping tongue to use. For years, Charlene questioned her own sexual preference, only to realize she found a preference in both men and women. The female ghost, in this case, won Charlene's heart, only because Charlene longed to see her.

To join her in death. To Charlene, life was hell, and death was her only escape.

Finishing her umpteenth sketch of the ghost, Charlene flipped the page over and began yet another sketch, this time a more intricate one, depicting the Ermengarde ghost, with her long, sharp claws, her two-foot long tongue, and her bloodied, pale-skinned, big-breasted body ready to spill out of what remained of her spectral rags, petting a nude Charlene like a cat. Charlene sketched herself on all-fours, arching her back as a feline would, as the ghost dragged the tips of her claws down Charlene's smooth back. It wasn't until the finalization of the sketch process that Charlene decided to change the picture to the ghost slashing her back open, and letting her blood drizzle down her shoulders, her ribs, and her thighs. The Charlene in the sketch had tightened her expression up into one that was either screaming in agony, or crying out in pleasure. Or both.

At the stroke of 2:00am, Charlene snapped her sketchbook shut, setting it aside, along with all her drawing utensils. Still thirsty from her pornographic sketch of herself and her ghostly dominatrix, Charlene made a brief exit from her room to brush her teeth. When she came lumbering back, at the edge of consciousness as sleep dragged what little remained of her strength from her body, the lights went out.

The clicking noise started. Charlene recognized it. It was the same noise she heard when the ghost appeared before her inside the Ermengarde Mansion. On cue, the smell of blood and decay threatened hurl the contents of Charlene's stomach out onto her clean carpeted floor. Charlene's fear only lasted for a brief moment, before it was replaced by an uncontrollable wave of lust. The female ghost had come back to see Charlene!

Tonight was going to be a night to remember.

Charlene couldn't see the ghost, but she could hear her, and smell her, and she reached out to feel her. Hand aloft in the darkness, the tips of Charlene's fingers brushed what Charlene could only imagine as the ghost's face. It was cold, and wet, and twitching. Charlene had no time to relish touching the ghost. With an ear-splitting supernatural shriek of fury, the ghost had Charlene pinned to the floor. Charlene couldn't move; the ghost's hand was crushing the side of Charlene's face into the floorboards.

And Charlene loved every moment of it. The sound she made, it was not a scream of terror, but a moan of pleasure.

"T...take me..." Charlene managed, through the intense pressure of the ghost crushing her face under her palm. "Take me... please... take me..."

To Charlene's delight, she felt the ghost's putrid breath on her face. A sinister laugh filled Charlene's ears, and then—

Pain.

Now Charlene _was_ screaming, though, to some degree, she still enjoyed it, knowing it was the Ermengarde ghost who was biting her face all over, tearing away bits of flesh with each chomp. Charlene felt the ghost's tongue as she playfully licked at Charlene's open wounds. Charlene had never felt pain like this in her life. But she still cried out for more.

"Please...! Please! Take me with you!"

Another ghostly laugh, as the specter picked Charlene up off the floor and pinned her to the ceiling. From there, the ghost continued to lick at Charlene's facial wounds.

"Why are you not... taking me...?" Charlene whispered. The pain threatened her consciousness. "Just... kill me... already... and we can... have... even more... fu..."

...

...

...

The ghost took her.

Charlene's dead body was discovered in her bedroom the next morning. Lying broken on the floor, her face having been mangled by the teeth of a monser, her glasses gone, Charlene's jugular had been bitten through, and it was from there she'd bled out; the crimson stain on her carpet told the story of Charlene's demise.

To make matters worse, authorities had no leads on the one responsible for Charlene Walters' death, and they were further baffled by the message the killer left behind: _Help me,_ written on the walls of Charlene's room—in her own blood.

Just another news report of the Anslem Butcher Case.

...

...

...

Monday, October 24th, 9:10pm...

The lonely world of the Ermengarde Mansion remained forever lonely for the dwelling ghost within. When not chasing down her most hated trespassers, the ghost hid in dark, cramped places, filling them with her somber mood. She was never happy unless she was taking someone's life, Charlene learned.

That made Charlene happy, knowing she brought the Ermengarde ghost happiness the night she died. Charlene felt more happy that the ghost took her, and brought her back to the Ermengarde Mansion. Wandering the sad, darkened halls at night, Charlene could not help but wish she'd survived the ghost's visit. It was true what they said: people who committed suicide always realized what a mistake it was, far too late. Charlene regretted wishing for death, now that she was here, a specter with no body, a soul with no purpose, other than to roam the Ermengarde Mansion for all eternity.

Sure, she had the Ermengarde ghost to keep her company, but the ghost never stayed around for long. She spoke so little to Charlene, sparing the latter no emotional value; no love, no friendship, no comerarderie—nothing, except her foul presence. Her dark, twisted presence. Her lonely presence.

Tonight, Charlene paid a visit to the empty foyer, where the Ermengarde ghost sulked in a corner, with her back turned on the whole world.

"Miss ghost?" Charlene tried. "Please come play with me."

No answer.

"We could go kill someone. Would that be fun?"

Still no answer.

"Do you think we could possess the owners of this place and make them do bad things?"

The ghost refused to answer Charlene.

"I wish I could show you my sketches of you, miss ghost. I had fun drawing them."

At that, the ghost turned her head—three hundred sixty degrees, and regarded Charlene with a wide-eyed stare, neither smiling nor frowning. A smile bloomed on the spirit of Charlene's face.

"We left my sketchbooks at my house. My parents were distraught when they saw my dead body, but I don't care about them. They're better off without me, anyway. Want to go see them? The sketches, I mean."

The Ermengarde ghost's head turned back around, and she faced the corner again.

Charlene decided to get the ghost's attention another way. Floating up behind the Ermengarde ghost, Charlene gave her cold, lifeless body a hug. She hugged the ghost from behind with so much passion, so much desire, and so much desperation, that the ghost broke down into tears.

All night long, they stood there. Charlene, hugging the Ermengarde ghost, while the ghost's sobs haunted the foyer until sunrise.

**Author's Note:**

> Risque, wasn't it? Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
